


Oh, Sweetheart

by Rosie2009



Series: Red Dead Redemption Fanfiction [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie2009/pseuds/Rosie2009
Summary: After Arthur has a close run-in with some Lemoyne Raiders, Tilly takes care of his wounds. Flirtation, conversation of feelings, and much fluff ensue. Arthur Morgan x Tilly Jackson.
Relationships: Tilly Jackson/Arthur Morgan
Series: Red Dead Redemption Fanfiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409836
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Oh, Sweetheart

“Arthur, I wish you’d be more careful with yourself,” Tilly fussed over the giant bear of a man sitting there before her. He chuckled a bit before grunting slightly when Tilly touched the whiskey-covered cloth to the somewhat deep wound on his arm.

“Yes, I do know,” he grumbled in low tones, and Tilly shook her head.

“Now what was it that you did?” she asked, despite already knowing the story. Arthur easily complied with her request without fight as she tended his wound there on his shoulder.

He had apparently rode out of camp, aiming to go and do some hunting. Unfortunately, some of the Lemoyne Raiders were out and about and deemed it necessary to try to put a bullet in him. Arthur had not gone into much detail over this part of his journey, but essentially, Tilly understood that it must have been a rather close shave, quite literally given the wound on his forearm. A bullet had grazed him, and he came back to camp.

It was then that Tilly Jackson hurried over to him, noticing the blood, and she had whisked him away before any of the other girls around camp even had the slightest of chances to do so themselves, much less even notice the wound.

So assuredly, she did not truly need to listen to the story again to be able to understand all of the details. Truthfully, Tilly just wanted an excuse to hear his voice rumbling in that deep growl that made her heart stutter and her mind cloud up in a dreamy haze.

“And that was when I came back here, was swept off my feet, and dragged up the stairs to be tortured in my own room,” Arthur deadpanned in his grand finishing statement, and Tilly just rolled her eyes, lightly smacking his uninjured arm.

“Now, hush, you needed some medical attention, and you know it,” Tilly scolded, not meaning a word of it as she smiled softly. He chuckled under his breath.

“I know, and I am grateful,” Arthur told her, and she knew he was being sincere about the entire thing. Tilly smiled slightly, binding his arm since she had cleaned the small gash.

“Good,” Tilly nodded resolutely as she pulled a bit more sharply on the cloth than she had meant to.

“Ah,” he made a light noise of pain in response. An apology was already on her lips, but he swiftly spoke before she could begin to voice it.

“Is it too late to take the gratitude back?” Arthur questioned, and Tilly tried to keep from smiling as she made a face of mock offense.

“Mister Morgan!”

Arthur immediately laughed at her, and Tilly couldn’t help but giggle along as she put down the cloth.

“I’m just sayin’! You tryin’ to torture a feller,” Arthur grinned, and Tilly just shook her head at him, leaning in closer with a big smile to match his.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Tilly told him in a manner that was doubtlessly coming on to be very flirtatious. Of course, Tilly couldn’t seem to find it in herself to hold back. Not with how they had been playing this dangerous game for a long while now.

“Well, I s’pose even if you were doin’ somethin’, I wouldn’t be able to complain, now, would I?” Arthur jested, lowering his voice a little and she just shook her head cheekily.

Tilly looked down at him fondly, her heart aglow with warmth from their exchange. However, she soon found that she was much closer to him than she had ever been during this entire conversation. In fact, she was so close that she could see the small specks of green and gold in his eyes. She felt her heart skip a beat with her sudden very close look at him.

Inevitably, after a long moment of this closeness where she was actually able to smell the tantalizingly musky scent of leather and snake oil on him— after all, this was not the first time that the two of them had experienced one of these moments— he pulled away. While Tilly ordinarily would have just let it go with a slight laugh, she allowed her disappointment and her slightly more irrational thoughts to take hold and control her tongue.

“Why?” she asked, and Arthur looked at her, furrowing his brow in something between interest, worry, and confusion.

“Huh?” he replied somewhat dumbly, and she clarified herself.

“Why do you always do that?” Tilly questioned, allowing a bit of her sadness to slide into her tone. He still attempted to act as if he was not sure about what she was talking about, but she could tell by the way that his posture had slightly stiffened that he was indeed well-aware of the subject she was addressing.

“I’m afraid I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a dumb, pig-headed ol’ feller, after all,” Arthur chuckled, insulting himself in that manner in which he was so prone to do.

“Why do you always pull away when we’re so close?”

“Well, for starters, it just ain’t proper, an’ I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m getting’ fresh with you,” Arthur explained, and Tilly huffed slightly in exasperation.

“Arthur, have you ever… maybe considered that I… Well, that I want you that close?” Tilly boldly asked, deciding to embrace that typical no-nonsense reputation that she had around camp. Or at least, the one that she was so often fondly accused of having.

“Tilly, you don’t really know that you want that,” he laughed a bit, and Tilly looked at him disapprovingly.

“I want that,” Tilly asserted defiantly, folding her arms over her chest as she took in Arthur’s uncertain yet sad expression.

“Sweetheart, you don’t want me,” he told her in one of those usual defeated, self-deprecating tones with that familiar grimace of a smile that looked more like he was baring his teeth.

“Arthur Morgan, I ain’t having none of that.”

“I’m an old man. You’re a pretty, young thing. You don’t need some codger,” Arthur informed her, and Tilly felt a bit of anger rising in her chest as she grew more rebellious. She wanted Arthur, and the age difference between them was of little importance to her. In fact, it somehow worked to make him more attractive.

“I don’t care about the fact that you’re older than me. That don’t matter. After all, you’re only about nine years my senior, right?”

“More like twelve,” Arthur expressed, chuckling cynically, and Tilly shook her head.

“That don’t make no difference. I still want you, Arthur,” Tilly expressed, and Arthur shook his head, lowering it before he slowly looked back up at her.

“Tilly, I ain’t what you need---”

“Do you want me?” Tilly asked, throwing herself out there. She waited with bated breath, knowing that now the moment of truth had finally come. She was about to know the truth.

They had been dancing around one another for the longest time with slight flirtatious remarks here and there, and Tilly had been sweet on him for as long as she could remember. Of course, all of the girls at camp undeniably found him to be extremely attractive, but his eyes always seemed to linger when he looked at her and his smile seemed to be just a bit bigger whenever he would tip his hat and gaze at her underneath that worn, torn hat of his.

Which made her truly hope that he felt the same as she did.

“Now, I---”

“Do you want me?” Tilly repeated the question, waiting bravely for the answer. She was ready. There was no more time for waiting. She was tired of wishing and waiting and hoping for something if she was never going to get it. She wanted to know that she— that _they_ — had a chance.

It would break her heart if they did not, but she would rather know the answer now so that she could start picking up the pieces of that shattered heart if she was going to face rejection.

Arthur sighed deeply, bowing his head, and she swallowed hard, accepting the response that she had interpreted through his gesture. She took a deep, shaky breath as she turned around, trying to compose herself.

It did hurt horribly. It stung deeper than anything else that she could think of. The pain was worse than any she had ever experienced, and it almost took her breath away.

However, before she could soak herself too deeply in this sorrow, she felt a giant, rough, calloused hand take her wrist in the gentlest of gestures. Arthur turned her around to face him, and before she could really focus on what was happening, his hand was at the back of her neck and her forehead was pressed against his own, her lips soon following.

Tilly gasped in the kiss, but her fingers were soon wrapped in the folds of his partially unbuttoned shirt. He pulled her down further, and she soon found herself sitting there on his lap. One hand was on her waist and the other was still resting on her neck, his thumb rubbing circles against her neck.

Now her breath was taken away in an entirely new manner.

And quite honestly, she _loved_ it.

She slid her hands up and around his neck, not really knowing what she was doing since she had never really been kissed like this before. She carefully threaded her fingers through his hair, and he made a deep noise of what sounded almost like approval. He leaned into the kiss a bit more and she felt her heart jump into her throat with the movement.

After a long moment, he finally broke away and she gaped at him, wide-eyed and honestly quite uncertain of herself. However, Tilly could not help the look of want that was doubtlessly clouded her eyes as she looked into his own blue-green pools.

Arthur glanced down at her slightly parted lips for a moment before wrenching his gaze away and back to her eyes.

“Tilly Jackson, I’m always gonna want and need you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head ‘bout that,” he assured her, his voice gravelly and low and the sound of it almost sent shivers down her spine. He closed his eyes before reopening them finally, looking much more tired than he ever had before.

“But you don’t need me, darlin’,” he proclaimed to her finally in an almost bittersweet tone.

“Arthur Morgan, I’m always gonna need you. And I’m always gonna want you,” Tilly told him, wanting more than anything to lean in and touch her lips to his own but finding that she did not quite have the courage just yet.

He looked at her silently, and in that moment, she could see the small flickering of the candlelight of hope in his eyes. But she could also see the dark hand of fear and past experience working its hardest to put out the flame.

“Are you sure?” Arthur finally questioned. Tilly allowed her fingers to move from the back of his neck to the sides of his face, her fingers running through the small, short hairs lightly covering his face.

“Completely,” she replied to him, and he studied her for only a moment longer before he leaned in and she found their lips reconnected. She smiled against his mouth, absolutely giddy with the answer she found in his actions this time. Tilly stroked his face and ran her hands down so that she was touching his hot, tanned neck.

And it was then that she knew she had been living a dull, droning existence, and in those blue-green eyes, she saw the world for the first time.


End file.
